


Dancing With The Dead

by Airmid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother Feels, Family Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28052409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airmid/pseuds/Airmid
Summary: Not all ghosts are dangerous. [Day of the Dead ficlet]
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 3





	Dancing With The Dead

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this up at FFN for a while and have been meaning to cross-post it over here. Sorry, it's a few weeks late given the theme. While the time period is nebulous here, I'd say the setting is in the earlier seasons.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)

* * *

His gangly brother was already disappearing past the apples and into the line of fridge cases. It had been a while since they had been in a store that wasn’t attached to a gas station and Dean would be on a different aisle entirely if he hadn’t seen them.

Them being pumpkins with skeleton faces painted on, the images of flowers and other decorations splashed around in bright colors. They grinned at him with their sightless, flower eyes.

Since he was in the business of digging up skeletons for various purposes, they bothered him in some way he couldn’t find words for. They just didn’t jive with the images he had of toothless skulls staring back at him before he threw the match. These decorations celebrated the dead and he put the pumpkin back, pushing more into the store.

The smell was overwhelming and it pulled him closer to the bakery, the scent of crusts and puff pastries and all the ooey-gooey goodness that Sam went on lectures about. Something about them being full of things that he couldn’t pronounce. What was important, however, was that one of the bakers was putting out fresh pies. That was his calling card right there, and he went to go look at the assortment of flavors.

“Dean.”

He turned, but it was just him and the pieman that was pushing a now empty cart back to the bakery. No one, especially not a woman, was there, and he tried to push the anxious bit of himself down more.

Blueberry. He hadn’t had that for a long time and while the apple looked so good that he would start eating it here if he could, he figured Sam wouldn’t want a scene. He didn’t need five hundred miles of Sammy bitching about how he had been mortified in some store they’d never shop in again.

It was way too quiet here in the back of the store. He took his pie to the front, seeing Sam coming out of one of the rows towards the middle, swinging the handbasket loosely, piled with stuff they had come here to get.

“Good first aid section,” Sam was saying, his long sloping strides reaching him in seconds. “Got us restocked –“ His brother trailed off, looking at him a bit closer. “Dude, you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. Why?”

Sam had a look that told him the cool act wasn’t playing but it didn’t matter because he knew Sam wouldn’t push.

“Figures you would find pie,” Sam said as they unloaded the little basket onto the belt at one of the registers.

“Fresh pie, Sam. Just baked. You could eat the air back there.”

“Uh-huh.”

Dean concentrated on watching the screen as the checker rang up their stuff. It was amazing how so many little items could ring up to so much. Not that it mattered, he had it covered, as he pulled out a couple of twenties. Sam hefted the bag and Dean congratulated himself on having a brother that was the equivalent of a pack animal.

The air was cold outside, the crisp smell of fall fully on them, as they went back to the car. A woman with two tiny kids wanting to run everywhere was nearby, her voice loud and tired.

Sometimes he wondered what that kind of life would have been like. If mom would have been here in the parking lot with Sam crying and him running ahead just to see everything.

“You okay?”

Sam was staring at him now, and he realized they were standing by the trunk and he had the keys. His brother shifted the bag, the paper crinkling in a way that was comfortingly familiar.

“Yeah, sorry, zoned for a sec.”

It was quiet, Sam putting the bag in the car for now. They’d sort through it and add it to the first aid packs later. He put the pie next to his duffle to avoid the temptation of eating while driving. Didn't need to hear the Sam complaints about that.

It wasn’t until he was into the car that he smelled it. The scent of aftershave and whiskey, and just whatever had made up his father that he hadn’t smelled in years. All of it was right here like it was when they were kids, sleeping in the back while dad drove through the night.

“Dean, man, what the hell?”

Sam was staring full out now, and he knew he had to look bad for that. His hand clutched his keys so tight that they left little toothy impressions on his palm. His door was still open even with Sam all situated and fitted in, as much as his brother could fit, on the passenger side.

“Nothing. Just thinking we should look at that case in Tulsa. Maybe a spook.”

“Sure.” Sam sounded less than convinced but didn’t press as Dean finally got his ass in gear and shut the door.

He got Baby started, her engine thrumming, his hands around the wheel. The smell was fainter now, but still there, that terrible sensation of alone pushed back for a few minutes more.

“I miss them, too,” his brother said, voice quiet.

Dean glanced over. Sam was staring out the window, fingers curled against the seats. He wondered how much of his world had slipped, or if it wasn’t all in his head.

He didn’t have a thing to say, and simply put the car in gear.


End file.
